Too Close, Jimmy Boy
by Fertummelt of the Mind
Summary: After the first hit, everything spiraled down from there. Klingons attack, Jim gets hurt, Bones has to deal with it. T for slash, little bit of violence. Stream of conscience writing.
1. Too Close

**P**ain. It's all he knows. He can't remember who or where he is but he knows that there is lots of pain.

His nerves scream, white hot, fiery. It's paralyzing, it's mind-numbing, it's a lot to deal with even within the deep, dark expanse he is trapped in.

He swims through the thick, greedy haze of unconsciousness, seeking an exit, a reprieve.

Time passes, however much he isn't sure, and his nerves light up in new pain. He's sure he'd scream if he could. A deep crimson appears in front of him and he's unsure about how he should feel but with the light comes the solemn whine of red alert.

And it all rushes back: Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, Designation NCC-1701. Jocelyn, Joanna, Dad. It's all there.

And now that he can see, he's wishing for the darkness again. Because not ten feet from his broken foot is his captain, his best friend, his Jim, pinned to the floor by a rather long piece of metal that narrowly missed impaling him. Leonard leans forward, hand outstretched, as he attempts to control his breathing that's gotten erratic at the sight.

"Jim?" His voice is soft, drowned out by the tenor siren wailing above. He notices the hysteria around him, the utter chaos, and it's all he can do to not go into shock: count your breaths, check pulse, stay calm. Nurses are scrambling around the bridge, supporting victims of countless burns and lacerations. The few doctors on board are working on the helmsmen and what looks like Uhura.

"Jim." This time, Leonard's voice catches Chapel's attention and she starts his way but he waves her off, looking at the body on her knees: Chekov, a deep slash ranging from his right eyebrow to what might be the last true rib, is unconscious.

"Bones." Leonard snaps his attention back to his captain. He's regained consciousness and on that border of falling in and out of the dark abyss that had swallowed him. The doctor crawls to Jim's side, pushing aside the debris that has him pinned and pulls him to rest on his lap, his head close to his heart.

He tries to soothe him and keep him awake and talking until the attacks stop and he can get down to medical bay. "Too close, Jimmy boy. You've cut it too close again." The young captain sighs a laugh and then relaxes, not fully asleep but murmuring songs Bones taught him when they were alone.

Tears burn Leonard's eyes as he looks around him, at the destruction, at the death, at the result of a feud-gone-too-long. It astounds him. Sickens him. Scares him. He doesn't fear for himself, the grumpy, almost-alcoholic divorcee with a child he hardly sees, but for his best friend, the young captain who is reckless and arrogant and who holds so much potential.

He leans back, staring at Chapel as she tries to get her tricorder to work. Everything's going so wrong. The cool metal feels nice. Leonard can feel himself slipping, retreating to the darkness once more. It was calmer there. Nothing to worry about. Nothing…

"Too close…"


	2. Ceremonies

**T**wo months.

Two months and one day since the Klingon attack that took the lives of a dozen crewmembers from Engineering and Medical, including one pregnant command-track lieutenant that Jim had been lucky enough to talk with, before her death, off-duty. The services are to be held today but as the captain slips on his dress uniform, he feels his throat close and the stiffened satin cling to his skin, choking him.

The doors open with a muffled _swish_ and a form leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"It's time, Jim."

"Yeah."

He takes longer than he needs to on the last button, trying to stall for time. He's scared.

He's up behind the podium, in front of all of his crew, without the natural exceptions, his heart thudding rapidly. He can feel Bones' eyes on him and he relaxes only slightly.

"Today, we gather to mourn the loss of our officers, our comrades, our friends. Today, however, should not be a day of sadness but a joyous celebration of the lives they lived and the lives they shared with us." He swallows, his throat tightening up as he sees the pregnant lieutenant in his mind again. "I have been lucky enough to meet each and every one of you in the past few years we've spent together aboard this great vessel and I must admit that every friendship I have made with all of you has only made this job better each day." A pause. _Jim_, he tells himself, _get a hold of yourself. Be a man. Your ship needs you, they all do._

"If I may, Captain, say a few words on behalf of those lost in Medical," Leonard graciously saves him, standing and taking Jim's hand behind the podium. His voice softens so only he can hear. "You did fine, kid."

The brandy tastes mildly of the cleaning solution for Sick Bay but Jim doesn't mind. It takes away the pain.

"Slow down, darlin'," the doctor murmurs into his hair, reaching to the orange curved bottle.

Jim hands it over reluctantly. He takes a glance over at the chronometer above the bedside table. "I'm just glad today is over. I hated speaking in front of them."

"I'm just glad you were here to say anything at all." Leonard whispers after a long moment.

The young captain trembles beneath the tightening arm, his eyes stinging with new tears. The thought had never occurred to him, dying and all. It was an accepted part of his life and he was ready for it whenever it came for him. But now that he had Bones, the idea hurt.

"Bones?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Thanks."

They settle into a content silence as the quiet hum of the _Enterprise_ lulls them to sleep, the stars casting dim lights across the room.


End file.
